At Odds
by CooperGirlHH
Summary: One-shot. The Pevensie brothers did not always have the most harmonic relationship but is there more behind it than we get to see? Moviebased brotherfic. Reviews are welcome. Mentions of mild child abuse, hence the rating. Please also read author's note that the beginning. EDITED AND REPOSTED


**At Odds**

 **Summary:** The Pevensie brothers did not always have the most harmonic relationship but ist there more behind it than we get to see?

 **Author's Notes:** I've been working on my other story – _The King's Quest_ (which I shall also continue with ASAP) – when this popped into my head. I wasn't actually planning on writing another story but this justed begged to be written ... :)

If you watched **_The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe_** , you'll remember that Peter and Edmund clearly were at odds with eachother at the beginning of it. I wondered what may be behind it – for it seemed a little more than just regular jealousy which can be found between older brother and younger brother in many families, I suppose.

A little warning before you read the story: You may find yourself disagreeing with Peter and some of his decisions, but please bear in mind that he is only a thirteen-year-old boy who doesn't know any better. The actual badie, however, is somebody else as you'll see ...

Please also take into account that childrens's education has probably been viewed a little different 70 yeas ago.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters mentioned except for **_Grandfather_ ** – this one I invented.

 **Please read through the whole story for lots of brotherly love at the end ... :)**

 **HUGE thanks to _LydwinaMarie_ for editing! Great job!**

XXX

It was winter in Narnia, the second regular winter, since Peter and his siblings had defeated the White Witch and had become the kings and queens. It was a cold winter – snow had began to fall early. To make things worse, a nasty wave of flu had been going around the castle lately.

High King Peter, the Magnificent, sat cross-legged in the armchair that sat opposite his younger brother's bed. He watched with a smile as Edmund sipped the hot tea the High King had just made for him. Like many of the castle's inhabitants, Edmund had fallen prey to the illness; actually it was the second time, or rather – as Peter secretly believed – it was still the first time, never really having mended properly.

Worried, but not without pride, Peter realised once more that his younger brother had turned into a responsible youth in the last two years . Edmund, of all people – the spiteful little brother who always had excelled at feigning illness, if it meant avoiding school (a couple of coughs and some sneezing thrown in for good measure had usually done the trick with Mum). Not anymore.

"Feeling any better?" Peter asked.

There was merely a grunt in response.

Peter smiled. "Serves you right for leaving your sickbed early, when everybody told you that you should not."

"My duties don't see to themselves," grumbled Edmund.

" _We_ could have seen to them," replied Peter. "Mind you, not Susan, of course. She's still worse off than you. But you do know that you can trust me and Lucy to handle everything well enough, don't you?"

This time he got a shrug from his brother. Peter heaved a deep sigh. "Really, Ed, I mean it. Stop pushing yourself so hard."

"Like you're any better."

"I am."

"Not."

"Sure am."

Drawing his eyebrows together, Edmund insisted, "No, Peter, you're not. But then again, _that's_ okay, isn't it?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Edmund huffed. "Don't be thick, Peter. I mean that it is okay if you're being stubborn, having everything your way. It was always okay for _you_."

"What are you _talking_ about?"

His brother sighed. "You honestly don't have any idea how special you have always been to everybody, Peter, do you? I mean, not here. Not in Narnia. We're all special, here. But back in that other place – back in England –"

Finally it dawned on Peter. "You're talking about how Grandfather has treated us, aren't you?"

X

It was day two of the fourth month since Dad had had to leave his family to fight in the raging World War. Peter had counted each day since, wishing that his father would come back. Things had become tense at home since Dad's departure, and even more so when Mum had started working as a nurse to support the meagre family income. It meant that Grandfather came over to look after Peter and his younger siblings when Mum was working late.

Had it been up to Peter, he would have looked after his siblings all by himself; he was thirteen after all. However, Mum had other ideas. Truth to be told, Peter had to admit to himself that neither he nor Susan could cook, and so with Mum away there probably wouldn't have been much to eat in the evenings.

But Grandfather did make sure that there was a proper meal served when Mum wasn't at home. Grandmother must have taught him how to cook before she passed away five years before. Peter didn't really remember her very well; all he knew was that she had been kind and warm and gentle, all the things that Grandfather was not. He was a grim old man, easily offended. He could be the kindest person in the world to Peter and his younger sister Susan. But their younger siblings, as it seemed, could never really please him.

"Say, Peter," said Grandfather as they all sat together, eating stew (which really wasn't much more than a week's worth of leftovers all mixed up in one pot). "How is school going?"

"Quite well," said Peter, not knowing what else to reply. There wasn't anything special he found worth to be talking about.

Gladly, Grandfather left it at that. He simply nodded fondly, and turned to Susan. "How about you? The boys must be starting to notice you, Susan."

The elder of Peter's sisters blushed, trying in vain to hide her reddening cheeks with her hands. " _Grandfather_! Don't talk to me about boys," she protested. "I'm only twelve."

"But such a pretty girl you are already!" Grandfather insisted. For all Peter knew, their grandfather would have had Susan promised to a nice young lad already if it was his decision to make. He was rather old-fashioned, Grandfather was. Nothing like a beautiful girl to be married off as soon as she came of age.

Susan let out a shy giggle, and at the same time there was a snort of stifled laughter from across the table. Grandfather turned his head swiftly towards the source, the smile he had put on for Susan quickly vanishing. "It would do you good if you stopped laughing at your older sister and ate your stew instead, Edmund," he said sternly.

Peter's younger brother, who didn't like stew very much and had been merely pushing it around on his plate, lowered his head and pulled a face – which was his second mistake. Edmund knew quite well he shouldn't be pulling faces at Grandfather, but, not for the first time, he had deliberately decided not to care.

As to be expected, Grandfather did not just let it go. His eyes were fixed on Edmund's still full and somewhat messy-looking plate. "What's wrong with the food, anyway?"

The Pevensies weren't so poor that their children had to suffer from hunger, but they didn't have anything to waste, either. Peter was well aware of that – and Grandfather (who had fought in the first World War and knew what _real_ hunger was) knew it even better. So it was probably no wonder that when Edmund didn't offer more in response than a mere shrug, Grandfather slammed his fist down on the table in anger, making all four children wince.

"Don't be angry, Grandfather," little Lucy pleaded from the other end of the table. Peter could see that she was already close to tears. Lucy was usually not a cry baby, but Grandfather's harsh tones brought her to tears easily enough. "He doesn't mean anything by it, do you, Edmund?"

But even before Edmund got a chance to reply, Grandfather ranted, "That's exactly it! He _never_ means anything by it. He's just being ignorant."

"I'm not!" said Edmund defiantly, although they all knew that he was, especially towards Grandfather.

Unfortunately, the old man became infuriated very easily. The fact that Lucy was actually crying by now only made things worse. Grandfather glared first at her. " _Stop crying_ , for God's sakes!" Then at Edmund, "Now look what've done. Just a minute ago, we were just sitting and having dinner, and now you've spoilt it all. Got Lucy in tears, too."

"Like it is my fault she's crying," snapped Edmund, anger flashing in his dark eyes as he slammed his hand down on the table just like his grandfather had a minute before. Usually, with his fist being half the size of Grandfather's, the gesture would not have had much of an impact, but he hadn't been looking properly, and he managed to bring it down exactly where the handle of his fork stuck out from the plate. With the fork still half covered in uneaten stew, the movement sent the food flying out behind Edmund. Peter could see from the shock in his brother's eyes that this effect had been unintentional.

It made Grandfather lose his patience completely. He stood, grabbed Edmund by his forearm, and yanked him to his feet. "I've had quite enough of your behaviour!" he shouted. To Lucy, who was sobbing loudly now, he roared, "Stop crying! You're not a baby!" Then he turned to Peter. "Peter, would you please go and shut Edmund into your room? I'm not going to tolerate such mannerisms."

Peter hesitated. He knew of course that Edmund had to be punished for his misbehaviour, but he also thought that it had, in fact, been partly caused by Grandfather himself. He always _did_ have a talent at bringing out Edmund's bad side, as much as he had a talent for making Lucy cry.

"Peter, get on with it," Grandfather insisted impatiently.

Peter sighed. "Fine – let's go, Ed." He got up from his seat and walked around the table. Putting a hand on his little brother's shoulder, he made to lead him upstairs to shut him into the room they both shared, but Edmund had other ideas. He shook off Peter's hand and made a run for the door.

Peter cursed inwardly. _Don't do that_ , he thought frantically. _Please Edmund, stop acting up._

From the looks of it, Susan was thinking just the same, but Edmund was beyond reason now, as riled up as he was. Otherwise he, too, would have thought better of the consequences of his actions. He was out the door before anybody could say anything, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence which was only interrupted by Lucy's half stifled sobs.

Susan rose from her chair as well. "I'll go get him, Grandfather," she offered.

But it was too late. "Sit," said Grandfather grimly. "I'll take care of him." And with long, heavy strides he left the room.

Peter and Susan exchanged a look. They knew very well what lay in wait for their brother. "I'll get Lucy to bed," said Susan after a moment. Her eyes gazed at Peter pleadingly. He knew what she was silently trying to ask him.

Stop Grandfather, Peter. Before he does it again.

But there was nothing to be done about it. Peter knew that, and he really didn't plan on intervening – not that he had had, when it had happened the first time. He had talked to Mum about it afterwards, but other than that he had just let it happen.

He ignored Susan, and made to clean up the table and the bits of food that stuck to the wall behind Edmund's chair. Soon he heard the muffled sounds of his grandfather as he ranted on and on, while doing his best at making Edmund unable to sit properly for at least a week. _A sound spanking that will bring him to his senses_ , Grandfather would call it. Only Peter knew that he dealt out quite a bit more than a mere spanking. Much more than was needed, especially on a boy as small and delicate as Edmund was.

It was the second time this happened since Dad had left. Peter was sure that if Dad had been there, this probably wouldn't have happened. But then again, Edmund had never acted up towards their father. In fact, he mostly misbehaved when Grandfather was around.

Peter had talked about it to Mum (Edmund had been badly bruised after that first _spanking_ – Mum _must_ have noticed), but she had merely looked sad and said, "Look, Peter, you might not approve of your grandfather's methods, but I don't have the time to make sure you're all looked after properly. I have to rely on what he thinks is best for you while I am not around."

"Like sending Edmund to that _special_ school?" Peter had asked, snidely. That also had been Grandfather's brilliant idea – one he had come up with not long after Dad had left. Without much protest Mum had accepted Grandfather's wish that the younger of her sons should attend that school – an institution which claimed to take care of "difficult" children.

When Peter had mentioned it, Mum had just sighed. "That, too."

"But haven't you realised that his behaviour has only changed for the worse, since he started at that school?"

She had not answered, and Peter had left it at that. If Mum approved of Grandfather's educational measures, then so would he.

But right now he could barely endure the sounds, muffled as they came from the room next door. Of course Peter could have gone upstairs and joined his sisters as they got themselves ready for bed, but instead he sat down at the kitchen table and forced himself to listen until it was over. Soon enough the door was swinging open, and Grandfather dragged a rather subdued-looking Edmund into the room, letting the door fall shut behind them with a bang. Peter could see that Grandfather still held on tightly to Edmund's thin forearm – it looked awfully painful. His fingers would surely leave some additional bruises there.

"Go and put your brother to bed, Peter" grumbled Grandfather, as he shoved the younger boy towards his elder brother. Then, looking exhausted, he dropped down into the nearest chair.

Peter nodded, hurrying towards the door. "Come on, Edmund," he said, and sure enough as soon as they got into the hallway, Edmund bolted up the stairs. Peter followed quickly and locked him into the boys' bedroom, then went to find Susan, who was still busy calming their younger sister. Finally Lucy was asleep. and the two elder Pevensies slipped quietly out of the girls' room and into Mum's bedroom. Here they could talk.

"How bad was it?" asked Susan.

"Bad enough."

"Shall we tell Mum?"

Peter shrugged.

"Peter –"

"It wouldn't make a difference, Su," he reasoned. "I talked to her last time. Either she agrees with Grandfather's ways, or she doesn't have the energy or the courage to stand up to him. Either way, there's nothing we can do about it, so why tell her? Besides, she'll know from the looks of Edmund, anyway."

"But Peter, we can't keep letting this happen!"

Now Peter was getting angry at his sister. "Well, he _did_ act up, didn't he?"

"So it's okay that Grandfather beats him black and blue?" Susan asked crossly.

"I didn't say that," Peter protested. "All I said was that there is little we can do about it, Susan."

"If Dad were here, this wouldn't be happening."

"Maybe, but he isn't," said Peter.

There was nothing else to be said about the matter, and so they both turned in for the night. When Peter entered the boys' room he found it in darkness, a suspicious silence greeting him. Edmund was lying on his bed, not moving, merely pretending to be asleep. After sharing a room for many years, Peter could easily tell the difference.

He changed into his pyjamas. "Goodnight, Edmund," he whispered into the stillness, crawling under his covers. As expected, there was no reply from the other bed. Peter sighed and pulled the blanket over his head. It had been a hell of an evening, and he wanted some peace and quiet.

At some point he must have fallen asleep, and he woke to the sound of his brother, sobbing quietly on the other side of the room. From downstairs came muffled voices – Mum had returned from work and was talking to Grandfather. Peter listened, but couldn't understand what they were saying.

"Ed!" he whispered, trying to catch his brother's attention.

There was no reply, but the sobbing went on. It made Peter's heart ache, and after a while he couldn't bear it anymore. He slipped out of his bed, padded across the room and carefully slid under his brother's covers, taking the smaller boy into his arms.

"It's okay," he soothed. "It's okay, I'm here."

There was a hiss of pain. Peter flinched; he had forgotten how sore his brother must be from the beating. But after a while Edmund settled into his brother's embrace, finally falling asleep.

It was in the early morning hours when a painful nudge in the ribs woke Peter up again. The sun had begun to rise, and it was already light in the room – light enough for him to see Edmund sitting up in bed, glaring at him.

"Out!" he said, viciously.

This was completely unexpected to Peter. Groggily he tried to figure out what could have changed since they had fallen asleep just a few hours before. He propped himself up on his arm and gave Edmund a puzzled look. "Ed, what –"

"I said _out_!" his brother snapped, looking furious. " _Get out of my bed_ , Peter!"

"But – what – why –?"

" _Leave_ – _me_ – _alone!_ "

Taken aback at the sudden outburst, Peter did as he had been told and went back into his own bed. There he lay for a long while, glancing over at his brother's bed every so often. But Edmund had turned his back on him. It was clear that he wasn't going to offer an explanation for his change in demeanour.

Peter soon found that he couldn't get back to sleep. Finally he gave up and rolled out of bed, getting himself ready for the day. After he was washed and dressed, he quietly made his way downstairs, deciding that he might as well start making breakfast. He was quite surprised to find Mum also up and sitting at the kitchen table, staring into a cup of tea. She looked pale and worn, but when she noticed her eldest son, she offered him a rather half-hearted version of a smile.

"Morning, Peter dear," she said, her voice tired and horse as if she hadn't slept at all.

"Morning, Mum," he said as he joined her at the table.

They sat in silence for a while before she took a deep breath and said, "It's good you're awake – there's something I need to talk to you about. And I'd rather talk it through with you first before I tell your siblings."

"Mum?"

"I've been thinking about sending you away to the countryside, Peter."

"Me?" he asked, nonplussed.

Mum shook her head sadly. "All four of you. The war is still raging out there, and we've had several air-raids here in London. I just can't bear the thought of any of you getting hurt. Or worse –"

Peter contemplated Mum's words for a while. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. "But where are we to go to?"

She shrugged. "I don't know yet. But there are organisations who help families sending their children away. I could talk to them, find out what to do."

Peter nodded slowly. "I won't object."

X

"You're talking about how Grandfather has treated us, aren't you?"

The reluctance to offer a reply and the pain in Edmund's eyes gave it away.

"Ed, he was just an old grouch." Not quite meeting his brother's eyes Peter said, "I _am_ sorry, though, for letting him beat you up the way he did. I should have prevented it somehow ..." He interrupted himself, shaking his head, then added, "Aslan's mane, this must bring up some bad memories for you – let's talk about something else."

But Edmund shook his head. "No, not yet," he said. "There's something I need to get out of my system first. I've been thinking about it for while now." He smirked. "There's too much time for brooding if you're lying sick in your bed all by yourself."

Peter nodded sympathetically. "Okay then, what's on your mind?"

Edmund took another sip of his tea and set the mug on the nightstand. He regarded Peter thoughtfully. "Remember the night when we were sitting with Grandfather, eating that horrible stew? I can't really recall how we got there, but it ended up with me on the receiving end of Grandfather's special education methods. Again, I might add."

Peter did remember. He hadn't really realised it at the time, but looking back now, that night had been the point when his and Edmund's relationship had really started to go downhill. "It was the night when I slept in your bed and you threw me out in the morning, wasn't it?"

Edmund nodded.

"Of course I remember," said Peter. "And I must say, in hindsight, I can't even blame you for being angry at me. I had let Grandfather hurt you. Susan was mad at me, too, for not stopping it."

"But that wasn't it, Peter."

"What do you mean?"

"That wasn't what made me so mad at you."

This came unexpected. "What else was going on then?"

Edmund hesitated a moment, as if he was lost for words, but then he slowly started to explain. "It wasn't long after you had fallen asleep when I heard Mum coming back from work. At first I didn't really plan on going to her and telling her that Grandfather had beaten me. But I felt so sore and terrible and so... well, I thought I could use a little comforting."

"Quite understandable."

"But when I was halfway down the stairs, I realised that Grandfather was still there. I heard them talking in the kitchen. About me."

"What did they say?"

Edmund let out a snort. "Well, he was complaining mightily about my behaviour – what else do you think he said? How I was a little brat, showed no respect... I ... well, I guess I was hoping for Mum to speak up on my behalf, but she never did. All she was doing was apologizing for all the trouble I had caused."

"Well, you _were_ acting up," Peter said. "Mum probably knew that, too."

"I suppose so," mumbled Edmund. "Anyway, it was getting me angry all over again to listen to them talking. But I knew better than to interrupt, of course. After all, I was still in pain – I wasn't going to risk another spanking. Actually, I was just on my way back to bed when Grandfather suddenly said something about you, Peter."

"Me?"

"Yes, _you –_ you blockhead."

"What was it he said?"

Edmund shrugged. "Oh, just all the usual stuff. How great you were, how you excelled at everything. How you would _never_ act up. He even said –" He broke off, pausing for a long moment.

Peter bent forward, his elbows on his knees, staring intensely at his brother. "Spit it out, Edmund – what else did he say?"

Avoiding his elder brother's eyes, Edmund continued in a very low voice. "He said that if the conditions were to turn for the worse because of the war and we would have to suffer from hunger, if it were up to him, he would have made sure to keep you and Susan fed first."

"So ... you mean..." Peter paused, unsure of what he should say. Edmund smiled bitterly, still refusing to meet his brother's gaze.

"He suggested to Mum that if she had to choose which of her children she would feed and not feed in order to save the others –"

"He _can't_ have meant it," Peter interrupted before Edmund could finish the sentence. "He must have said that out of anger, but he can't have _really_ meant that Mum should –"

"Don't know if he really _meant_ it or not," said Edmund hotly. "It was all the same to me. Anyway, I couldn't listen anymore."

"What did you do then?"

"You know what I did. Went to bed and cried my eyes out."

"And that's when I woke up and came over to comfort you."

Edmund nodded. "I was so devastated that all I could think of was how it helped to have you comfort me – it even got me asleep, after all. But when I woke later on and thought it through again, I suddenly became so angry at you. I mean, I know _now_ that it wasn't your fault, Peter. But back then, it just hurt to know that Grandfather approved so highly of you and Susan ... and how much he despised me and Lucy."

"Have you ever talked to anybody about this? Mum? Susan?" asked Peter, worriedly.

Edmund shook his head, eyes avoiding Peter's. "No. For a while I couldn't even be sure if you all agreed with Grandfather –"

"Oh, Edmund – we'd never, and you _know_ that." Peter's heart ached at the mere thought of it. "If only you had said something! If only you had come to me and told me." He got up from the armchair and moved to sit on Edmund's bed so he could wrap his arm around his younger brother's shoulders, wondering if he would shrug him off.

Edmund didn't. "Sorry, I was so mad at you at the time, Peter. It wasn't your fault, after all."

Tightening his hold, Peter sighed. "Will you stop apologizing! You didn't know any better." Tears were brimming in his eyes, and although he didn't cry easily, he had come to the point where he could no longer hold it back. So was Edmund, obviously. Soon, both boys were crying, holding on to each other.

It was only after a long while that Peter finally managed to smile through his tears. "It's a good thing you've finally told me," he said. "I can't believe you carried this around with you all the time."

Sniffing, Edmund rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "Don't worry, Peter. I made myself forget for a while. After our coronation I could think of nothing else but Aslan, and how he had been treating me. How he loved me, despite ... well, despite _everything_."

"He's quite something, Aslan is," Peter said agreeably.

There was a moment of comfortable silence between the two brothers.

"Peter?"

"Yes?"

"Do me a favour?"

"If I can."

"Please don't ever say anything to the girls about it. Especially not to Lucy. It'll kill her to know."

Peter nodded in silent agreement. They sat there quietly for a long while, still hugging each other and not daring to let go, feeling at peace like they hadn't in a long time.

XXX

 **A/N:** Please let me know what you think!

If you would like to leave a review to criticise my writing, please bear in mind that being kind is appreciated, but being helpful is even more important.

All the best,

Coopergirl


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